Sarkastic Mr KnowItAll
by MaggieMae58
Summary: Sark captures Vaughn, but things don't go exactly how Vaughn expected them to, and there are some strange repurcussions. SarkVaughn pairing.
1. Chapter 1

Vaughn opened his eyes slowly, feeling the throbbing in his skull intensify as more light seeped into his vision. He tried to rub his eyes, but he couldn't move his arms from where they were held above his head. Dreading the worst, he looked up slowly. His wrists were tightly bound to a ceiling beam with coarse rope. He couldn't shift them even an inch in any direction.

"So, sleeping beauty awakens," came a voice from the shadows in the corner.

With a sinking feeling, Vaughn recognized the silky measured British voice. "Sark..." he mumbled.

His captor moved out of the shadows, "Yes, Agent Vaughn. How...perceptive...of you." Sark's short blonde hair was, as always, immaculately groomed, and his searing blue eyes, perfect nose and slightly pouty lips coupled with his thin face made him look both noble and devious simultaeneously.

"I won't give you any information," Vaughn spat through gritted teeth.

Sark stepped a few feet closer, "Oh, but you will. I, Vaughn baby, know how to make gentlemen like you talk. In fact," he continued, "You'll be one of the more difficult ones, but I'll break you down."

Vaughn regarded him with disdain, but ther was a glint of fear in his eyes. "Torture won't work," he said quickly.

Sark smiled, "Yes, I did figure you'd say that. And I'm feeling generous today, so you're safe from that unfortunate event...for now."

Vaughn breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.

Sark laughed, a chilling sound, and spoke, "Would you like a drink?" he asked.

Vaughn's mind raced, trying to figure out what Sark was planning. He knew that there could be poison in the drink, but he also knew that he wouldn't be killed--at least this early in the game. Sark needed information, so he wouldn't do anything rash. What could the plan be?

"A drink would be great," he said tentatively.

Sark smiled in satisfaction, "Good. What would you like?" he opened a suitcase that lay beside Vaughn, which was filled with all kinds of alcohol.

"Martini?" Vaughn said, feeling ridiculous.

Sark nodded, "Your wife shares the same affection for martinis. Personally, I prefer red wine--a tad femme, I know, but the habit began at an early age."

Vaughn could stand it no longer, "What do you want?" he questioned sharply.

Sark halted his making of the martini and laughed, "That's for me to know and you to find out. However, it would be rather crass of me to torture you after you specifically requested me not to do so."

Vaughn nodded slowly, and was surprised when Sark stepped over and calmly untied him. "There, you could run, but..." he patted his pocket meaningfully and Vaughn knew he had a gun.

"Sark...why are you doing this?"

"Because, Vaughn baby, I want to fight you."

"I thought we were having drinks."

"Yes, and after the drinks, I would be honoured if you'd fight me. If I win, you tell me the information. If you win, you leave without telling me anything."

Vaughn thought about the proposition, "And if I don't accept those terms?"

"Then torture becomes a definite possibility."

Vaughn winced, "Alright...I suppose that couldn't hurt."

Sark's mouth twisted in amusement as he set a martini in front of Vaughn, "It will hurt whichever one of us loses," he said.

Vaughn sipped at his drink, which was delicious, "Yeah...do we have any rules? For the fight, I mean."

"I knew what you meant. Have we any rules? Of course...no guns or knives. I've already taken your weapons, so we needn't worry about /you/ breaking the rules."

"What about you?"

"Very observant." Sark reached into his pocket and withdrew the gun. He pointed it at Vaughn, who winced again, but Sark only said, "Bang" and placed it on the table. "Drink your martini and get to it," Sark snapped, suddenly much less laconic than before.

Vaughn did, gulping it down quickly and thanking god that it eased his still-throbbing head slightly. He stood up.

"Very well," Sark said, "I see that you've been working out lately," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Vaughn nodded, hoping Sark was duly impressed by his muscles. His years in the CIA had left their mark on him in the form of biceps, pecs, and sixpack abs. Sark, in contrast, was slimmer, more cat-like, with smaller muscles.

"Ready when you are," Sark said impatiently.

"Oh, I'm ready," Vaughn said, and lunged at Sark, knocking him over. He sat on him, and raised a fist to hit him in the face, but Sark squirmed his arm out from under Vaughn's knee, grabbed his wrist, then flipped him over, stood up, and kicked Vaughn in the ribs.

"Call yourself CIA? You couldn't beat Arven Sloane."

Vaughn lept to his feet, insulted. He tackled Sark and punched him in the gut once before Sark got the upper hand again, putting Vaughn in a headlock. They stood this way for a moment, both breathing hard, until Vaughn reached out with his left hand and grabbed the gun Sark had set on the table.

He swung it back, making contact with Sark's cheekbone, relishing the dull thwack it made, and Sark's inadvertant gasp of pain. Sark released hold on him, and Vaughn whipped around and pointed the gun at him.

Sark laughed, "You cheated," he said, seemingly nonchalant at the pistol pointed at his head.

Vaughn gripped it tightly, "I'm going to walk out of here, and if you so much as take one step after me, I'll blow your brains all over this shitty little room."

Sark nodded, "I expected you might, but you never got your prize..."

Vaughn paused, "What is it?"

Sark extended his hands, and cupped Vaughn's face in them. Vaughn pulled the trigger, but the gun only made a dull click. Sark laughed, and drew Vaughn towards him, kissing him proprietarily on the lips, hard.

Vaughn stumbled back, "What...the gun...you..."

"Not loaded, of course. I knew you'd not be able to resist the temptation to shoot me in the face, and I didn't /really/ want to risk my life. And, by the way, you're a much better kisser than Lauren."

Vaughn just stared at him, "Can I leave?" he asked.

"Of course. I got what I wanted," Sark said.

"But...what about the information?"

"Oh, please. You know nothing that I don't at this point. That was not /really/ the objective of our little meeting, Mr. Vaughn."

"Oh..." Vaughn managed, and stumbled out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Vaughn's cellphone rang, and he picked it up slowly, "Vaughn speaking."

Sydney's voice floated down the line, "Vaughn? Are you alright? Nobody has heard from you since yesterday afternoon..."

"I'm fine. I'm headed to the briefing now. See you soon."

"Where were you?"

"I SAID I'd see you soon, Syd." 

"But..."

He hung up. Why hadn't he told her? To protect Sark? Why would he want to do that? Was it because he could barely accept what had happened? What HAD happened in that basement? What HAD Sark wanted? He blinked, confused.

When he arrived at the CIA briefing, Dixon was very concerned, "Agent Vaughn, where have you been?"

Vaughn hesitated, then spilled the truth. "Sark had me."

Dixon frowned, "What did he want?"

"Apparantly information."

"Did he get any?"

Vaughn shook his head, "No. In fact, he didn't even torture me. Or...anything. He just kept me for awhile and then...let me go."

He saw Sydney giving him a look--she knew that he was lying, but he knew she didn't know quite what he was lying about.

Dixon nodded slowly, "Mr. Sark hasn't been acting himself lately. He's...it seems as though he has a different motive than he started out with."

"Yeah..." Vaughn said, lost for words. 

Dixon clapped his hands together briskly, "Okay. I want to find Sark. Sydney, Vaughn, I'm going to send you on a mission. Vaughn, do you know where you were being held"

"Yes."

"Do you know if he was intending on staying there?"

"He had suitcases."

"Alright. We're going in. Marshall, I need you to prep the agents with your best stuff...remote devices so that we can tell them if Sark is going to ambush them. He's a dangerous guy. How long will that take you?"

Marshall smiled confidently, "Give me 20 muntes."

Dixon nodded, "20 minutes, then. Agents Bristow and Vaughn, get ready."

Vaughn and Sydney headed off to get ready for their mission. As Sydney loaded her gun, she glared at Vaughn, "What /really/ happened in there?"

Vaughn averted his eyes, "Nothing. He just let me go."

Sydney shook her head, "I don't believe you, but if you don't want to tell me for some reason, then I won't force you to."

"You couldn't anyway," Vaughn said, grinning.

Sydney swatted him on the head, "I could if I wanted to," she told him, and the matter was dropped.


	3. Chapter 3

They entered the building cautiously, guns drawn. Marshall spoke to them their their earpieces, "So far, nobody is on my radar. He's probably in one of the inner rooms. We've got a hallway going all around the building, with rooms on the outside, and then a little square of 4 rooms in the middle. My bet is that he's in there somewhere. Approach with caution."

Vaughn nodded at Sydney, "You go left, I'll go right."

Sydney nodded back, and they split in their seperate directions. Vaughn walked down the hallway slowly, knowing, somehow, exactly which room Sark would be in.

He approached the room he suspected, saw it the door closed, and kicked it swiftly. It swung open without trouble. He felt ridiculous. It hadn't even been locked.

Sark was, indeed, in this room, lying back on the bed and smirking, "Vaughn baby, you came back. Come over here."

Vaughn crossed the room, gun raised, not knowing exactly what he'd do once he got close to Sark. Sark beckoned him closer, "Put your gun down," he demanded.

Vaughn, as if in a dream, dropped the gun on the bed without protest, and Sark nearly purred with satisfaction. "Sit down," he commanded.

Vaughn sat on the bed, not knowing quite was he was doing, rationalizing this in his mind as a way to capture Sark without getting himself hurt.

Sark grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down, flipping him over, and kissing him aggressively. Sark straddled Vaughn and smiled, "I want you," he said, and kissed him again. Vaughn reciprocated, although his mind was telling him that this was not quite the right way to go about capturing Sark.

They tussled on the bed, Sark dominating, biting, clawing, kissing. Vaughn's headset crackled, "Vaughn? Vaughn? Where are you?" but he ignored Marshall's worried cries.

Sydney burst into the room, gun drawn, and then froze, "Oh...my god," she said, lost for words. She lowered her gun for a moment, but then seemed to come back to herself, and yelled, "Vaughn, I don't know what the fuck you're doing, but move out of the way!"

Vaughn did, rolling off the bed. Sark growled, and followed him, right as Sydney fired her first shot directly where Sark had been lying only moments prior.

Sark grabbed Vaughn's shoulders and held him in front of himself as he said, "Ms. Bristow, I do believe...it's a pleasure to see you here. Wouldn't have expected you to want to join our little rendezvous, but if you really want a threesome with Vaughn and myself, it could be arranged."

Sydney was angry, she yelled at Vaughn, "Hit him, do something! I can't see to shoot when you're being held in front of him like a fucking hostage! Get your gun!"

This command, unfortunately, only helped Sark, who remembered that Vaughn had dropped the gun on the bed and grabbed it, pushing Vaughn away roughly. He leveled the gun at Sydney's face and hissed, "You interrupted us, so now you'd better let me go peacefully. Vaughn baby, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when Syd tells Dixon what happened here."

Vaughn stood beside Sydney, "Nothing happened, Sark. I was trying to apprehend you."

Sark smiled, "Keep telling yourself that. You know you loved it." And with these words, keeping the gun trained on Sydney, he sidestepped them and left the room, running down the hall and disappearing into the gloom.


	4. Chapter 4

Sydney and Vaughn ducked out of the building and ran to the car. Once safely inside, Sydney glared at Vaughn, unspeakably angry, "I don't know what the hell went on back there, but that was not an attempt to apprehend Sark."

Vaughn kept his eyes on the road, "Syd, you're completely overreacting. He started it, and I just…"

"You just went along with it? I find that exceedingly hard to believe, Vaughn. I've never seen that much passion from you, not even when you and I…well…I'm sure you're not like that with Lauren, are you?"

He knew it wasn't a real question, not really, but he still answered, "Of course. More so. She's the…well…no, I'm not. Not since I discovered her betrayal."

"And before that?"

Vaughn sighed, "Of course Lauren and I were passionate with eachother. We were, after all, married." His voice cracked a little on this part.

"You still are married," Sydney pointed out.

"Goddamit, Syd, why did you have to say that?"

"I hardly think I was overstepping my bounds by mentioning that, in the eyes of the law, you ARE still married. And you can hardly expect me to consider your feelings when I had to witness you making out with the very man we were trying to capture."

"Why do you have to be so…"

"Careful, Vaughn. I'm not exactly in the happiest mood right now," Sydney told him harshly, and stared out the window, not speaking to him for the remainder of the ride back to the CIA building.

Dixon was waiting for them when they arrived, "Did you get him?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"No. Vaughn…" Sydney paused, not sure if she should tell Dixon what had happened. Vaughn gave her a pleading look, and she relented, "No. Vaughn and I split up to search the building for him, but he escaped through a door that we hadn't realized was there."

Dixon frowned, "That's not like you two. Are you sure that's all that went on?"

Sydney nodded, "I'm sure."

Dixon gave her an appraising look, "Very well. It was a good try, anyway. Sydney, your father wants to talk to you. Vaughn…I would like to speak to you in my office, regarding Lauren."


End file.
